196 AUGUSTINE BAY. 



lovely harbor, the harbor of Augustine Bay. 

 Entering there, we dropped our mudhook off 

 Tent Rock. Very well named, I call that rock, 

 for it is shaped like a tent and as white as new 

 canvas. It is just a mile from the shore. 



I can't say how it is now, but in those old days 

 whoever bethought him to land at Augustine Bay 

 must first make terms with the savages. I knew 

 that the fuzzy fellows would soon come off to treat 

 with us. Accordingly I cleared for action. For 

 savages are thieves, the whole world over, and 

 whatever may be said in favor of valor, dis- 

 cretion is the better part of holding your own. 

 Every dispensable article went below — rope, 

 spare belaying-pins, buckets, craft — lest those 

 rogues should make off with them. 



Now I confess to a weakness for dogs, particu- 

 larly for big Newfoundland dogs, and most 

 particularly for my beloved black Rover. I was 

 bound that no sooty Madagascan should capture 

 that faithful friend. I therefore shut Rover up. 

 I tucked him into my room off the cabin and left 

 him there for safe keeping. 



And in that I builded better than I knew. 



Hardly had I got upon deck again when the 

 canoes, deeply laden with their savage freight, 

 came splashing for us. Then there was a wild 



